


Of Kept Sith Lords

by Dangerously_Demonic



Series: The Legacy of Darth Letum [3]
Category: Alien Series, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angry Clayton best Clayton, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 06:36:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11823231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangerously_Demonic/pseuds/Dangerously_Demonic
Summary: A supposed Sith Lord from centuries past lurking around the Jedi Temple? But think of the Padawans! (Set between Ep. II and Ep. III)





	Of Kept Sith Lords

**Author's Note:**

> This is essentially a bit of lore writing for a role play I have. Clayton is a hybrid of sorts. He was originally a Republic soldier who stumbled into a Xenomorph nest and was "infected". I've pretty much written that Xenos were an early project by Karness Muur before he went on to create the Rakghouls. So, basically: elbows up/waist up = human, elbows down/waist down = whole lotta NOPE.
> 
> In addition, he's originally designed for The Old Republic era, but my friend wanted Kenobi stuff...So he got thrown into stasis for 3600 years and with some force hand waving, there he is.

It seemed in 3600 years that the Jedi hadn’t changed very much. The temple on Coruscant, while having not existed in his time, was much the same as the one on Tython. Lining the halls were holo-images of notable Jedi in the order’s history. There was a constant flurry of activity despite the temple being quiet. Many would call it peaceful...Which was why Clayton stuck out like a sore thumb. He had a near permanent scowl on his face as he stood in the hall outside the Council Chambers.

Inside, he could faintly hear Kenobi arguing with the council. Again. Some of them thought he was dangerous (rightfully so), others thought he was insane, one thought he was a relic from the past which should be observed and learned from. Honestly, the little green imp Jedi was the only one who seemed to believe that he was Darth Letum. The others thought he was merely pretending, and that included Kenobi.

Truthfully, Clayton couldn’t blame them. After all, had some sith lord come up to him and claimed to be Tulak Hord or some other famous sith lord, he would have likely thought the person to be full of shit. It all sounded absurd, even to him, so he couldn’t imagine what it seemed like to them. As it was, they were having him hang around the temple for ‘observation’. Which meant that they didn’t trust him not to go out and do dastardly deeds. Not that he really planned on doing such.

Hell, they wanted some other Jedi to hold his leash, initially. Kenobi had gotten quite sassy with Mace Windu over that and had managed to change the elder Jedi’s mind. He did that by citing that there was an obvious distrust of Jedi and that there was a slight of trust between the two of them. Clayton wasn’t really sure what the Jedi was smoking, but whatever. Now, Kenobi was trying to get them to allow him out of the temple. He figured that Kenobi would still be holding the metaphorical leash, as it were, but at least he’d be away from the Temple and it’d be easier to slip away.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft giggle and he glanced over to the sound with a frown. Further down the hall was a young woman taking holo-pictures. It only reminded him of much he must stand out. The Jedi almost exclusively wore loose, medium brown colored robes which were often left open at the front. Lots of earthy colors. Meanwhile, he was in black robes closed at mid-torso which only showed a dark blue shirt. For now, he didn’t see the need to reveal what he was.

The woman took a few more holo-pictures before leaving. Sighing, Clayton leaned back against the wall and tilted his head back. He wasn’t really sure how much time had passed...Then again, Jedi tended to debate like old people fucked. For the second time that day, he was jarred out of his thoughts. This time, it was Kenobi leaving the council chambers. Rather than speaking, the Jedi simply gestured for him to follow and continued on with a brisk pace.

Clayton found this to be a bit odd but he followed after, easily keeping up but feeling much like he was being treated as a lost canine. Eventually, after being led through a maze of hallways, they ended up on a garden balcony. He gave the Jedi a slight frown but also a bit of an eyebrow raise to indicate that he wanted to know what was going on.

“It took a bit of work, but the council agreed to allow you a small apartment. You’ll essentially be under house arrest, but you’ll have privacy...Which is a bit lacking here, but don’t expect to spend a lot of time at your apartment. You’ve officially been assigned to me.” Kenobi explained, looking as pleased with himself as a Jedi could.

Clayton only returned a bland expression. Leashed canine, indeed. At least there wasn’t a muzzle, too. “I suppose that it’s better than being gawked at by the padawans.” Turning, he walked to the balcony railing then shifted so that he was leaning forward and resting his elbows on the metal. Still frowning a bit, he peered down at the rows of traffic below. Then, he snorted loudly. “Reminds me of being an apprentice. Less meditation in awkward positions and vague riddles meant to be snippets of wisdom, though.”

Behind him, Kenobi laughed, prompting the sith lord to peer at the other man. “I suspect that’s a force master method. Mine enjoyed doing much the same….Though, I’m curious. What happened to your master?”

“He was killed.”

Kenobi hesitated a brief moment before asking the next question, “By you?”

Clayton shook his head. Given the nature of Sith, it didn’t surprise him that Kenobi would immediately jump to the notion that he had killed Tenebris. “No. He was assassinated. I was still an apprentice when he was killed. A rival sith lord wanted to claim his power...Unfortunately for her, he kept my apprenticeship a secret. I took care of her in due time, however.”

Unsurprisingly, Kenobi made an expression of distaste at this bit of information. “Well...Back to the earlier topic. It’ll take a bit of time for the apartment to be set up and furnished, so you’ll be spending a final night here and moving in the morning.”

Looking back to the traffic below, Clayton simply nodded. He could handle another night here. While it wasn’t exactly the best place in terms of privacy, it sure as hell was better than sleeping on the battlefield. After a few moments, he sighed loudly and dropped his head down so that his forehead touched the cool metal of the railing. Damned Jedi and their questions. Lifting his head back up, “Ask your damned questions.”

Kenobi made a bit of a surprised noise, clearly having not expected to be called out. “Well, you claim that you’re from about 3600 years--”

“And you still don’t believe me…”

“Ah, no. You must realize how absurd it all sounds. As I was saying, there’s bound to be some differences between the Republic and Jedi Order of then versus how they are today. I was wondering what differences you’ve noticed.”

Sighing, Clayton turned around so that he was leaning on the railing with a hip, "The Republic is a diseased body, rife with cancerous growths disguised as good will gestures and pleasantries. The senators claim to offer aid, only to hide their own corruption, pay offs, and ulterior motives. Unfortunately, the cancer runs so deep that removing it would kill the body. The Jedi aren't much better. Long gone are the sedate force users who were loathe to be moved to action. Instead, replaced by a highly militant group who strains to be free at the first hint of battle. Hilariously close to the mentality of Sith, if I'm honest."

The Jedi seemed to be taken aback by this observation and made a move to object, but Clayton continued, “I will say one thing that’s stayed the same is the Jedi’s need to treat me as a curiosity, something to be studied and prodded. Your order is willing to repeat your oaths all day long, as long as it’s convenient for you.” He had pushed away from the railing and stalked over to Kenobi in order to stare down at the man.

“The Jedi are not the saints they claim to be. I’ve seen atrocities done by them in the name of the so called ‘greater good’. Hell, I’ve had some of those atrocities done to _me._ ” He made a humorless sound and slightly tilted his head, “Jedi aren’t above some good ole fashion torture when it comes to Sith. That was one of the last things they did before they threw me in the freezer for a couple thousand years. So you’ll excuse me, Kenobi, if I spit at your feet and on the so called olive branch you’re showing me.” Saying nothing further, he moved past the Jedi, leaving the man looking a bit loose jawed.

For the next hour he prowled the hallways of the temple, taking the less traveled routes in his meandering. Eventually though, he ended up at his assigned room. There, he sat down on his bed, cross legged to meditate. Normally, he would have chosen the floor but the room was little more than a hole in the wall.

He had initially thought to soothe his temper, but the force had a much different idea. Snippets of images bubbled up behind his closed eyes. Frowning, he tentatively reached out to touch them.

_Cold and musty, a dark room. The sound of metal dragging. Heavy limbs. A female voice, but one heavily mechanical speaking slowly._  
_"I have been so lost, for so long. Though my past was just a moment in time, I woke up in this cell. With my hands holding my fate,  
_ _I burn wounds that won’t mend. With my eyes open wide to the stars, I can see: it’s the end.”_

With a soft, but sharp noise, he pulled himself out of the meditation and stared wide eyed at the door. It was rare for a vision to leave his stomach feeling twisted in anxiety, but whatever it had been about didn’t bode well.


End file.
